Newt Imagines

Campfire Stories

"He stood, frozen in terror, as the homestead door rattled, with only an old rusty shovel to defend himself..."

Frypan stands in the center of the circle of gladers, next to the dying embers of the bonfire. Lots of the boys had head off to bed, but some of them still hang around to tell scary stories. Fry's story is by far the most frightening so far, brought to life by the wooden figures he uses as characters. Part of you wonders why you even decided to stay and listen: you had an inkling, despite your lack of memory, that you had never been good with horror stories. Maybe you just didn't want to be left out, or were worried that you might still hear the stories from your bed in the homestead. Either way, you couldn't leave now. So you stay, sitting with the other gladers with your back against a log, watching the eerie flicker of the fire cast spooky shadows on Fry's dolls, as he recites his story in a hushed tone.

"The shaking stops, and he finally thought it was over. That whatever it was had gone. But just as he'd relaxed... BAM!"

You jump in your seat, your heart pounding in your chest. Terror fills your mind, fear for the character making your stomach drop. Your reflexes take over, and your hands reach out, grasping whatever lays by your side in a defensive response. As your luck would have it, that just happens to be Newt's hand. The blood rushes to your face, color rising in your cheeks from embarrassment, as you feel Newt's attention shift, now drawn to you. Blushing, you look up at him sheepishly, thankful for the darkness hiding the redness in your cheeks.

"Sorry..." You whisper, your voice shaking from the terror of Fry's story. You drop Newt's hand, quickly trying to hide your reaction.

He just smiles back at you, his brown eyes staring straight into yours, and doesn't look away until you look back to Fry.

The story continues, Fry describing excitedly the vicious monsters in his story. Your stomach twists, horrified at the image he paints in your mind, of a creature even more terrifying than the grievers Newt had shown you through the window in the deadheads.

"He runs away, scrambling over the thick tree roots of the deadheads, as the creature follows closely, the blood of the last glader still dripping from its mouth..." Fry acts out the character's motion with the doll, smiling devilishly.

You listen, petrified, as Fry describes the pursuit, trembling with each sentence. Fry goes quiet, reciting how the character finds himself trapped by the beast, in the far corner of the glade. You shudder, looking around the fire at the smiles of the other boys in the audience. You feel like you're the only one who wants the character to get away, whilst the others wait intently on the edges of their seats for the beast to devour him. Boys. You listen to the murmured laughs, watch the excited nudges, as Fry details the character's terror as he gets his foot stuck in a twisted tree-root.

Fry describes in terrifying detail, as the creature closes in on the character, its dripping mouth awaiting the final kill. Your body tenses, until in one swift motion Fry lets out a scream and closes his fist around the doll in his hand. The doll oozes ketchup, Fry's attempt at fake blood, specifying and demonstrating how the creature rips him to pieces. You scrunch your eyes shut and turn you head to the side, trying to escape the horrific details of the character's demise. Even though you're turned away, you can still hear Fry's gruesome explanation, no doubt sourcing your nightmares tonight.

Soon, you feel a warm breath on your nose, causing you to cautiously open your eyes, careful not to look back to Fry. You are instantly met with Newt's face, inches from yours. You face burns again, realizing that you turned right towards him. Embarrassed, you blush. Newt probably thinks you're weak now, not even able to listen to Fry's unrealistic story. Awkwardly, you look up into his eyes, expecting to see his unmistakable glimmer of amusement as he laughs at you. Instead, you see only genuine concern, his eyebrows furrowed in a frown.

"You okay?" He whispers gently.

You force a smile, "Um... Yeah. Just..." You shrug, continuing lightly, "As much as I love hearing about the brutal death of a glader... I really don't."

Newt chuckles, but his eyes are still kind. "It's just a story, you know," he whispers.

You nod, feeling your fear fade as he smiles at you. "Still not my favorite topic."

Newt laughs again, but this time too loud. The other gladers hush him, making you smile.

"Now look, you're getting me in trouble!" He scolds you quietly, but his smile says otherwise.

"Hey!" You hear a strong voice across the fire, telling you that Fry's story is over. You look over, and see Gally staring straight at the two of you. "Is y/n scared?" He teases, pouting.

You hunch your shoulders, sinking into yourself wishing you could disappear. Your hair still stands on end from Fry's story, and you wish you could hide.

"Come on, Gally," Newt rolls his eyes, his fingers finding their way around yours.

Your shoulders relax at his touch, and you feel a small smile creep onto your lips. He's so caring. Just when you manage to relax, you hear a sudden shout behind you, and someone grabs hold of your shoulders. The sound of your scream fills the glade, earning laughs from the other gladers. Your heart pounding, you turn to see Minho grinning behind you, trying to hold back laughter. You feel tears threaten to surface, and you quickly cover your face.

"Leave her alone!" You hear Newt's voice, but different to how you've ever heard it before. His gentle tone is gone, all sarcasm and playfulness evaporated and replaced by a harsh, deep tone. All laughter ceases immediately, and you feel an arm... Newt's arm... wrap around you, pulling you delicately into his chest. "There's nothing bloody wrong with caring for other gladers, real or not, so you can stop being slintheads and giving her a hard time." Newt tells them sternly.

Your eyes still covered, you hear a few murmured apologies mixed among the shuffling of feet as the rest of the gladers head back to the homestead for bed. You relax once again in Newt's arms, your hands slowly sliding off your face.

"It's okay, love," Newt whispers gently, wrapping his other arm around you in an embrace, as he strokes your shoulder.

•••

So that was just a bit of an innocent imagine, which nothing really happened in... but I think it's kind of cute how caring he would be if you were scared <3

Also, what do you all think of my new book cover??